Transfixed
by tahitiliz
Summary: As Mary watches Four Corners enveloped in a struggle for justice, she reflects on her relationship with one tall, dark and handsome gunman. Takes place during The New Law. Chris/Mary.


**As Mary watches Four Corners enveloped in a fight, she reflects on her relationship with one tall, dark and handsome gunman. Takes place during **_**The New Law**_**. Chris/Mary.**

**Thank you for your interest in my story! This is the first Magnificent Seven story I have written, although I have been a fan since the show came out.**

**I hope I did the characters justice and that you enjoy what is written below. It principally takes place during **_**The New Law**_** although several flashbacks are included. I wondered why in that episode that we didn't see Mary or Billy participate in the fight in town. Reviews are always welcome and constructive criticism is especially appreciated. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer****: No profit is being made from this story.**

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><p>She stood on a small rise in the grass, erect in her light blue dress, bright eyes and brilliant gold hair sweeping across her face in the tendrils of wind. Her brow boasted a slight sheen of perspiration, courtesy of the heavy wool union soldier jacket she recently shed on the ground next to her. Although transfixed on the sight of Four Corners amidst a battle for control, her son's small hand in hers was a potent anchor to reality.<p>

Frustrated, she shifted her weight to one leg as she listened to the yells, horse screams, gunfire and other sounds of carnage coming from the town. _I can't believe it came to this._ Her thoughts continued to torture her as her hardened eyes watched the villains flee the town, running amok like an overturned anthill. She had never shied away from a fight – hell, she had stood in front of a lynching mob, stared down a hell-bent pimp, ridden into Purgatorio alone and dared to raise her voice against Chris Larabee. There was no doubt Mary was a woman of courage.

_Chris_. The name bolted to the forefront of her mind. She wondered, as she watched a haze of gunsmoke, dust and dirt envelop Four Corners, if he was alright. The apprehension was not foreign to her but nevertheless the miserably familiar feeling of fear overcame her gut. As she stole a glimpse of Billy, Mary fell into a memory of just an hour ago.

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><p>She stood next to Mrs. Potter at the matron's wagon, describing the events of the last day to her friend as Billy slept soundly in the wagon. The line of fleeing townspeople stopped three miles outside Four Corners as the seven men discussed what to do next. Mary could make out their huddled group, not too far off and next to a large oak. Gloria Potter, years older than Mary, had become a comfort since Stephen's death. Now the woman showed the same concern for Mary's well-being as she had in the days following the tragedy.<p>

"You didn't ride all the way down to Purgatorio, did you?" Her eyes were wide, and her outstretched hand trembled slightly before it came to rest on Mary's forearm.

The young woman sucked in a slow breath. "I didn't have much of a choice. I didn't know where any of the other men were." Somewhat of a lie. She could have found Vin if she put in the effort. But it wouldn't have been the same. Finding Chris was necessary for her as much as for the town.

"Good heavens, did you have any trouble riding in?" Gloria's free hand came to cover her mouth in horror.

Mary recalled riding through the main street, sitting as tall and appearing as confident as she could on the stallion. It wasn't long before men gathered around her, following her and calling out to her in lusty tones. She did her best to appear unnerved and continued to look for Chris as she made her way down the street. But as soon as one man grabbed for her leg it became a free-for-all and she began to swat them off like flies buzzing in the pastures in the summer. Hearing Chris' voice rising out of the commotion, commanding them to leave was one of the greatest reliefs of her life. It wasn't until he was beside her that she realized how badly she was shaking.

When he pulled her off the saddle she saw one of those looks in his eyes – a penetrating, genuine, almost _affectionate_ stare. As if she was the only thing in the world that mattered in that moment. And immediately she felt safe, calm. It was then Mary's feelings betrayed what she had been avoiding for months. Indeed, Chris Larabee meant more to her than a friend.

Returning her attention to Gloria's inquiry, she replied, "Just a little, but fortunately I found Mr. Larabee shortly after I arrived."

Commotion coming from the seven's huddle splintered the women's conversation. Each man, half-dressed in a union army officer's uniform began hailing the townspeople around the uniform crate. People hesitated at first but their implicit trust in the town's protectors evidently propelled them to don the blue wool as well.

"Oh my," Gloria creased her eyebrows and let their conversation fall aside. "I supposed it's time to find what the commotion is about."

"Of course," Mary replied, glancing at the wagon. "I'll see you over there as soon as I get Billy up."

Twenty minutes later with her droopy eyed son in tow, Mary plucked two uniforms from the crate and led Billy to a nearby fencepost under an oak tree to put them on. She perched him on the post and began dressing. She noticed Billy watching her as she drew the navy coat around her shoulders and was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion of love for her son. She desperately wanted to regain the town so that he might have a life with her. She knelt down and gave him a loving kiss on the cheek. Billy grinned lopsidedly and rubbed the spot in half-hearted revulsion.

"Aw ma." Chuckling at his embarrassment and finishing up her last buttons, Mary turned around to find her hat on the ground. She sighed in frustration, realizing she forgot to grab one for herself. "Billy," she began, looking around the dirt one last time, "You'd better start dressing yourself. You heard what Mr. Standish said, everyone needs to wear a uniform." She looked up to see Billy toying with an officer's coat. Walking back to where he sat in two short steps, she picked it up from his lap and wordlessly held it up for him to put on. Billy pushed some hair from his face first and then dressed in the navy blue coat. As only a motherly love could provoke, Mary began to distractedly brush off some dirt from Billy's soldiers.

"Sweetheart, I need you to wait here while I get a hat-"

"Hey Chris!"

"Hey Billy." She heard his smooth voice approaching behind her. "You're lookin' mighty fine in that uniform. How does it feel to be a sergeant?" His voice made her lower stomach roll in anticipation.

Billy giggled at the light teasing and rocked from side to side in delight. Mary took a deep breath and turned from her son toward Chris. Just as she finished the silent prayer that her hair was still done in place, she found the gunslinger much closer than she'd anticipated, so close that she took a step away from him and lost her footing. Chris' hands swiftly grabbed hold her shoulders to steady her. Reacting on instinct, she gripped his arms for balance.

"You alright there?" Mary looked up to meet his piercing stare beneath a colonel's hat, not very different from his expression during their encounter in Purgatorio. Her gaze wavered between his eyes and her stomach flipped over a few times.

"Yes, I'm fine."Her voice was uncharacteristically raw. She straightened and cleared her throat. "Thank you." Chris' expression did not change for a few moments and Mary could feel him examining her. Suddenly, as if coming back to life, he looked around and released his grip. He leaned in slightly, causing Mary's senses to become pleasantly hazy with his nearness.

"Mary," his low and quiet tone sent shivers racing through her, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Mary looked over her left shoulder at Billy who watched with obvious curiosity as to what the adults were talking about.

"Yes of course." She replied in an equally low tone. She raised her voice as she spoke to Billy, "Billy, I'll be right back. Stay here and wait for me." Billy looked to Chris, who gave him a tight nod and small smile. Reassured, the boy visibly relaxed and replied, "Ok ma."

Chris put a hand on the small of her back and led her further away from the crowd gathering around the uniform crates. She could hear Nathan and Vin above the crunching of their feet on the dry grasses as they stole away for privacy, shouting instructions to people about how to put on the coats. After two or three minutes of walking, Chris stopped and turned to face her, satisfied with their isolation. The afternoon sun cast an unusual yellow hue on his face.

"Is something wrong?" Concern exuded from her tone. Chris shifted for a moment, as if uncomfortable. He glanced briefly at the ground and Mary realized how itchy the wool on her coat was against her bare wrist. Just as she thought to herself that Chris wasn't one to beat around the bush, he looked at her straight in the eyes and spoke.

"Mary, in less than an hour we're heading back to town pretending to be the union army. I want you and Billy to stay here."

"Stay?" She crossed her arms and knitted her eyebrows. "If the rest of the townspeople are going we can help too."

"Not everyone's going."

"Just almost everyone." She didn't want special treatment. "If it's about the children, I'll leave Billy here and come with everyone else. I'm not a runner, Chris. You know that. I won't stand by and do nothing."

He sighed audibly and looked to nothing in particular over his left shoulder, then returned to her eyes. His stare became intense with something Mary wasn't able to place.

"The folks in blue could turn into targets. The last thing I need on my mind is the possibility of you getting hurt."

She was stunned. His words nearly mirrored those of Buck earlier but the weight of the sentiments in his voice was anything but what Buck said earlier. It was almost unbelievable coming from Chris.

He shifted his weight from one leg to the other again, looked at the horizon then back down to her with the same intensity.

"Please, Mary. Don't make me ask again."

"Alright," She replied slowly, still digesting his request. "I'll stay here."

Without so much as a thank you, Chris inclined his head slightly and took off in the direction of the crowd, leaving Mary to watch him and wonder exactly what just happened. As she watched his retreating figure, unusually clad in an officer's uniform, she marveled at the frankness of his words and the change their relationship had made.

Truth be told, they had gotten off to a bad start. One of the first times she spoke directly to him she picked the worst topic. The first time she brought up his wife and child told her just how dangerous the topic was. And even the next conversation they had did little to ease the tension in their relationship.

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><p>Mary stood at the window, her back to the wounded Judge Orin Travis on the bed. Nathan had left ten minutes ago to get rest. As she watched people mill about the streets outside she summoned her wits. The Judge was fighting death, her husband had been murdered a few months ago and her son was miles away from her. She feared the careful wall of emotions were soon to come spilling out of her in a flurry of tears.<p>

A knock sounded at the door. As she turned, Mr. Larabee walked in and looked at the Judge. Still feeling awkward from their last exchange, Mary renewed her attention to the window before her. She heard Larabee cross the room to sit down next to her. Certainly, God was determined to make this one of the more challenging days of her life.

"How's he doing?" The table creaked beneath his weight.

"The honorable Orin Travis is a stubborn old man."She faced Chris again, hearing the weariness in her own voice.

"Yeah, I noticed that. Hope he'll be all right."Mary was surprised when the gunslinger stood up and put on his hat. That was all he wanted? He barely put two sentences together whenever they spoke.

"You're leaving?" There was an unusual tug of anxiety in her chest.

"Yeah. Take my advice and go back to where you came from. This town ain't fit for a woman." Hearing those imposing words caused Mary's wear and frustration from the day to come crashing down.

"Listen, Mr. Larabee," Her voice churned with an anger that stunned even her. She paused for a moment, expecting him to continue walking. When Mary realized she had his attention, she knew if she didn't say what was coming next to him she would regret it later, propriety be dammed.

"When my husband was killed I swore on his grave I would not become a victim - and that his dreams, everything we worked so hard for, they wouldn't be taken away from us. It's all I have left to give to my son and I'll fight anyone to make sure that that happens."

"All right. As long as you know what you're getting into. A man like James, he don't care about nothing or nobody but himself. If you get in his way he'll walk right through you. Your little boy lost his father. I'd hate to see him lose his mama too."

Mary became uncomfortable of the look on his face. Though his countenance expressed a calm man she could see the fervor in his eyes. Admittedly, she found the passion in his voice welcome compared to the apathy she previously thought colored his character.

Mary was outraged at his suggestion that she was unable to care for herself in the town but what bothered her more was the reason of his objection. It was as if he tapped into her guilt of being an absent mother to Billy. After that afternoon she was certain the gunman wanted very little to do with her and she tried to convince herself she too wanted little to do with him.

Yet shortly following their heated exchange in Nathan's clinic, there was one instance, which became one of many, where Mary became distracted by the sight of the now familiar man in black, standing across the street from the Clarion News office. She was rustling through her files for a claim involving the local farmer-rancher conflict when a thundering coach rolled by in the street, distracting her from her task and causing her to glance out the window. Just after the stage passed she noticed his familiar black figure across the street. Curious, she watched him lean against a post on the boardwalk in his usual way, evidently making conversation with Nathan.

Pulling an imaginary stray hair back behind her ear Mary thought quietly to herself.

_What does it matter what he thinks of me? I have more stake in this town than he will ever know_. Yet as she watched him rub his chin in thought, using the other hand to gesture to Nathan, she didn't quell the rising heat of unmistakable attraction. Realizing what was happening, Mary broke her stare.

_He stands for everything I want to rid this town of. The sooner Orin finds a suitable sheriff the better,_ Sparing one last glance before she returned to the printing press, Mary reaffirmed her commitment to remain distant in the case of Mr. Larabee.

But he didn't leave. Moreover, it became apparent Mr. Larabee and his friends may be just what the town needed, particularly when a group of prostitutes descended on Four Corners and she was thrust into him again.

Memories of Wickes cackling over her as she lay tied to the bed crept into the corners of her conscious. Mary looked down at Billy, remembering how Wickes asked her what her pride was worth in comparison to her child. Sighing deeply, she was thankful Billy did not live with her at that time so she could keep the terrible experience a secret from him.

She knew Chris blamed himself for what happened. After he rescued her and they returned to town, Mary went with Nathan to the clinic for some herbs to help with the pain from the bruises on her wrists and calm her nerves.

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><p>Nathan lit three lamps in the room as the full-bodied dusk quelled the natural light from the windows. Mary sat on the bed, still in her black dress. Nathan returned to his herb shelve, rummaging through the jars for the proper medication. Mary smoothed out some wrinkles in her lap as she began to realize how disheveled she must look. She heard a frustrated sigh from the healer.<p>

"Miz Travis, I'm sorry, I have one jar here for you to help with the pain. But I know I left one more over at my place to help with relaxation. Can I go get it for you?" He turned and looked at her earnestly.

"No thank you Nathan, it's too much trouble."

He shook his head persistently. "Not at all. If you got a couple minutes I'll go get it right now." Seeing Mary's unease he insisted, "I'll feel better knowing you have it."

She smiled slightly, conceding. Nathan quickly walked to the door but just before he opened it, she interrupted him.

"Nathan, would I be able to use your wash basin? I'd like to clean up my face if you don't mind."

"Not at all," he quipped, and put his hat on and opened the door. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

With the click of the door shutting, Mary got up and walked to the bowl. She took the white porcelain pitched next to it and filled the basin with water. She found the bar of soap at the shelf next to the sink and took it for her face.

Once her face was washed, Mary tried to tidy up her hair but soon lost hope. It would have to do until she went home. After she put the soap and pitcher back in their appropriate places, she faced the bed again. She recalled the last time she was in the room, when Wickes came in for Nora. She repelled a few uncomfortable shivers and returned to her seat at the edge of the bed. Not a minute later, there was a knock on the door. Mary's heart leapt in her throat in a brief moment of fear, but reminded herself Wickes wasn't coming for her again. He was dead.

"Come in."

Chris Larabee entered the room, his hat off. He looked around. "Nathan here?"

"He went to get me some medication." A curt nod was her response.

Chris moved away from the door to stand in front of the window but remained facing her.

"I came to apologize, Mary." It was only the second time he used her Christian name.

"You don't need to apologize."

"I should have made sure someone was with Nora the entire time." His eyes were steadfast on hers.

"Don't blame yourself; there was no way of knowing Wickes would come back."

Silence reigned again and he looked away.

"Did he hurt you?" Chris repeated the question he asked earlier. He dragged his eyes from a spot on the floor back to hers. Seconds passed.

"I appreciate your concern but he didn't hurt me." After a moment, she added, "He's gone now anyway."

Chris held her eyes for a few moments longer with an enigmatic expression on his face.

"Yep." He replied, breaking the trance. He put his hat back on, and promptly left the room. In the wake of his absence, a voice in the back of Mary's head wished he hadn't left so soon.

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><p>Mary and Billy stood with a handful of others, watching the town for close to an hour, until the commotion sufficiently died down. The sun had shifted in the sky when Billy turned his face up to his mother.<p>

"Ma, is it time to go home yet?"

She jiggled their joined hands and smiled at him. "Just about." Billy bounced in anticipation. "Do ya think we'll see Chris?"

Billy sat at her desk in the _Clarion_ as Mary surveyed her office. All her major equipment was there, although the letters from one of her boxes for the printing press were scattered on the floor. Mary opened her street facing door and stepped out to examine her storefront. A broken window panel and some unidentified stains on the door now graced The _Clarion_. The sign for the newspaper office was snapped in two, leaving Mary in a dour mood. Yet she as looked around the town and saw her neighbors' hardships, Mary was reminded how fortunate she was.

Fighting off a wave of exhaustion, Mary leaned against the doorframe and closed her eyes. The exhaustion from the last few days was bound to catch up with her. Mary reminded herself that now was not the time to rest. There was so much work to be done not only at _The Clarion_ but to reinvigorate the morale of the townspeople. As Mary gathered the will to get back to work, she heard a familiar click of boots making her way on the boardwalk. They stopped no more than two feet from her.

"Everything all right, Mary?" She opened her green eyes to a man dressed in black and gave a smile.

"Just taking it all in." As she inhaled, she could smell his familiar scent. It set her hair on end every time and today was no exception. She swallowed.

"How's everything looking?"

"Not too bad. Although it wouldn't hurt for me to take my hammer out." Chris chuckled. "Did you have any problems earlier?"

"Naw. Turned out to be pretty routine." He flashed his patent smile that sent warm shivers all the way to her toes.

"Chris! You made it!" Billy ran from outside into the gunslinger's arms.

"Hey, Pard."

"Grandpa's comin' back tomorrow. You gonna stay? We don't have any lawmen here now to protect us." The boy's eyes looked hopeful. Mary wondered if she should rebuke her son for the personal question but wanted to know the exact same thing.

"Don't know, Pard. I reckon I'll be here for a little while at least." He turned his attention back to Mary. "You need any help around here? There's not much for the rest of us to do except help a little with the rebuilding."

For ten seconds Mary considered telling him everything was fine and she could handle it herself. But then she remembered the feeling of seeing him pack his saddlebags and leave town. The aching gap in her stomach came back to her and she reconsidered her response. Glancing at the shattered window pane and broken sign, she replied,

"I actually could use a little help."

With a smile on her lips, Mary led Chris, with Billy still in his arms, back inside the Clarion. She couldn't think of a better way to begin rebuilding.


End file.
